


Trust Me

by swtalmnd



Series: Yours, J [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Cats, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:51:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7587646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swtalmnd/pseuds/swtalmnd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond tries to arrange a surprise for Q, but it takes a bit longer than anticipated. Q is vexed at the resultant lack of tea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Another far-too-short little coda to _Yours, J_ , born of a tumblr prompt for 007 Fest. This one comes before _Chocolate_. Enjoy!

"Don't you trust me?" said Bond, blocking Q's view of the kitchen.

"No," said Q just to spite him. "And I want a cup of tea more than I want you to stop pouting at me like that. You've been in there for ages!" Q knew he sounded petulant, but he didn't bloody care at this point.

"I'm sorry it's taking so long," said Bond, nuzzling at Q's cheek and kissing him sweetly. "Look, go wait in the living room and I'll bring you tea and a bag of treats so you can play with the cats."

Q harrumphed, but he allowed himself to be gently driven away from his own bloody kitchen. Again. He plopped himself on the comfortable sofa and picked up his tablet, but it really had been too long since he'd had a cup of tea, and he couldn't concentrate properly on anything.

Bond emerged a few minutes later with a tea tray containing a whole pot of tea, a very full sugar bowl, Q's favourite mug with a spoon already in it, a bag of cat treats, and a plate of the baklava that 005 had brought him. A very small plate. 

"I hope the size of this serving indicates dinner soon, and not that you've decided I need to cut back on sweets," said Q tartly, checking the pot and sighing to see the tea was far too pale yet to pour.

"I would never for a moment suggest you need that," said Bond, pressing a kiss to Q's forehead. "Half an hour, an hour at the most, and I'll be done."

Q let himself be kissed and coddled and mollified, for now. He picked up the bag of treats and shook it, calling out, "Walther! Pascal!"

Bond chuckled and left him to it as eager meows converged on his location. Q busied himself preparing his cup and pouring the tea, breathing in the scented steam and finally, finally getting a good long sip of blessed caffeine. In truth, Q was very curious to see what his lover was going to come up with in their kitchen, given that they both tended to subsist on a diet of takeaway and tea, but he wasn't about to admit it.

Especially when he'd been denied his tea.

Another good sip of tea, and he put the cup down and got out some treats, feeding them to their lovely kittens -- nearly grown cats now -- one at a time. They'd both learned to sit and wait their turn, though Walther tended to get loud if he felt Pascal was getting too much of anything that he wanted.

A variety of smells had escaped from the kitchen that afternoon, up to and including something burning on at least one occasion. A savoury scent that was nearly delicious wafted out of the kitchen now, though there was still that edge of burnt something underlying it. Not to mention the mingled scents of cat treats and tea right in front of him.

Q made a face and had more caffeine. Caffeine made everything better.

The cats took this as a signal that treats were done and took up their favourite spots on either side of Q, heads together as they took over Q's lap. Q chuckled and stroked their soft fur, sipping his tea and just letting it all relax him. A year ago he couldn't have imagined being where he was now, domestically waiting in the flat he shared with James fucking Bond and their two cats while the trained killer mucked about in the kitchen trying to surprise him.

"I'm a very lucky man," Q said to the cats, and then he retrieved his tablet with a careful stretch and sent Bond a text.

> _I love you, you know._

A clatter came from the kitchen, and Q's phone beeped a minute later.

> _I love you, too. Dare I ask what brought that on?_

Q laughed.

> _Just appreciating my life, late dinner and all._

Bond sent him back a picture of their dining table with plates and silverware on it.

> _Soon._

Q laughed and closed the texting app. He set down the tablet and settled back on the couch to pet cats and sip tea, letting his mind wander over his planned projects both work and personal. He'd ported a few more games onto his OS for the grateful agents, and was tracking their popularity as a way to decide what to do next. He tried to remembered the stats and ended up pausing to look at them on his tablet, getting protests from both cats as he shifted and stopped petting.

"Stop complaining, he's going to leave you in a moment, anyway," said Bond, sauntering out of the kitchen with a triumphant grin. "Dinner's ready, kitten."

"About time," said Q, tilting his face up demandingly.

Bond came over and kissed him, glancing over at the tray. "Didn't like the baklava?" he asked.

"Didn't want to get the cats sticky," said Q. "I'll have it later."

"I'll bring it to dinner, then," said Bond, gathering up the tray and taking it back to the kitchen. "Any time now," he called.

Q chuckled. "That's my line!" He gave one last set of scritches and got up despite the adorable protests, padding into the kitchen and over to their dining table, where a big bowl of spaghetti bolognese sat proudly in the middle of the table, plus salads and what he hoped was garlic bread.

"You really cooked this from scratch?" said Q, sliding into his seat.

"I really did," said Bond, already lounging in his own chair. "I burned the sauce the first time, though, not enough stirring and too high a flame." He sounded almost proud about it.

"I did smell that," said Q with a chuckle. "Well, here's to a new way for you to feed your Quartermaster."

They clinked glasses of water -- they only had wine when Bond wanted to get Q tipsy and have giggly drunk sex -- and then Bond stood up to serve, grating fresh cheese over both their plates, plus their salads for good measure. The bread, Q saw, already had some cheese melted in, and Q tried that first. It was warm and crispy, soft in the middle and full of bright garlic and pungent parmesan, not to mention a liberal slather of melted butter.

"Mm, well, this is off to a good start, anyway," said Q with a grin.

Bond twirled up a forkful of spaghetti. "I hope you like this. I think I can do a better job next time, now that I know what some of the instructions mean." He took a big bite and got that self-satisfied look back, which Q took as a good sign.

Q took a bite of his own, finding it savoury and delicious, surprisingly complex for a first go. The onions were sweet, the meat savoury, and the sauce thick and, he thought, with more than a little wine cooked in. "All right, I approve wholeheartedly of this new hobby."

"I promise next time I'll make sure to keep you in tea," said Bond, almost sheepish. "I lost track of time."

Q laughed, then leaned over and stole a warm, savoury kiss. "I trust you, James."


End file.
